Fic: Loose Ends, 1/1. Hannibal/Face.

[katydidmischief]

disclaimer. Not mine and none of the events described here in have any basis in reality.
title. Loose Ends
rating. NC-17
pairing. Hannibal/Face
summary. Hannibal knows what he wants and what Face wants, what will soothe the nightmares.
warnings. Some D/s, light bondage, cursing.
notes. Written for this prompt at a_team_kink.

Loose Ends

It takes five nights for Hannibal to snap.

"Face," he starts, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he stands, in lounge pants, in the doorway to the kitchen.

It's a nice house they've got right now; a friend of Face's from the barracks had loaned it to him as favor, promising to keep their location to herself, and they've been here for a week. It's going to be hard to leave – hot and cold running water, clean linens and a washer and dryer for more, a proper fridge and stove for Murdock – but right now, Hannibal wants to them out of there.

Face doesn't look up from his bowl of soggy rice chex, a bowl he doesn't look to have taken one bite from. "Don't, Hannibal," Face tells him, "Just... don't." He doesn't want to hear it right now, all the crap about how nightmares are only his mind kicking up crap, about how it'll stop. He doesn't want the platitudes – yes, they are dreams and he shouldn't take them so seriously, but fuck it all, even awake he can't get the image of Hannibal dead out of his thoughts.

"Tell me, then." Hannibal sits in the chair beside Face. "What the hell is so terrible that you can't get back to sleep."

"You," Face admits. He sighs and spins the mess of cereal and warm milk, then goes on, "It's you. Bleeding, shot, dead. It's everything that happened with Lynch, except we don't get the container up in time and Lynch kills you."

Hannibal feels his chest tighten. It's been a year since LA, since their first and second daring escapes; it's the past and Face shouldn't still be tormented by events that hadn't come to pass. It's not right and Hannibal knows (from the red at the edges of his vision) that he's growing angry, at Pike and at Lynch and a little at Face for this.

A moment passes and then, finally, Hannibal rises, grips Face's right bicep. He forces Face up and guides him away from the kitchen and the bowl of cereal-turned-goop, walks Face to the stairs, then up; Hannibal says nothing the entire time he marches Face toward the bedroom (Hannibal's bedroom) – he's not entirely sure what to say, or what he'll do once he's got Face in his bed.

But as they step through the doorway, Hannibal knows what he wants and what Face wants, what will soothe the nightmares.

"Lose the pants," Hannibal orders, dropping his own without taking his eyes from Face; he can't bear to look away as Face obeys, untying the drawstring on his lounge pants and letting them slide to the floor. All that skin... a gentle, fading tan coloring Face's legs, the edge of Face's shirt brushing his dick as he breaths.

Face reaches for the hem of his shirt, but Hannibal tells him, "Leave it on."
"Yes, Boss." Face's voice is deeper, edged in lust, and he moves to the bed, crawling up onto the covers until he falls against them and rolls over. He contemplates taking off his socks, but something tells him that Hannibal would object so he leaves them, hitching his shirt up enough that the hem is bunched on his stomach and wraps his hand around his dick.

"Stop that," Hannibal grounds out, yanking his shirt off. "You're not coming until I'm in you."

Face shivers at the thought. So enraptured in his thoughts, the idea of how fucking good it's going to feel to have Hannibal moving inside him, he doesn't realize Hannibal's on top of him until Hannibal's dick slides against one thigh.

"Fuck, yes, Boss," Face says before leaning up to kiss Hannibal, running his tongue along Hannibal's lips; he slings a leg over Hannibal's back, pulls him in tightly. He's been thinking about this for years (as he's sure Hannibal has to know), about how Hannibal would feel – his skin, his lips, the rumble of his chest when he lets out some groan or grumble – and now that he has Hannibal splayed against him, all Face wants is more.

Hannibal lets Face hold onto him, but when Face reaches for one of his wrists, Hannibal flips them and pins Face's arms over the younger man's head. It draws a moan from Face, who looks a little dazed and very much turned on.

"Well, well," Hannibal says, and pushes himself up, away from the warmth of Face's body, "Look at you, so pliant, Face. Bet you'd do anything I'd ask of you."

Face thrusts up, trying to reach Hannibal. "Anything you want, Boss."

The smirk slides across Hannibal's lips, broken when he speaks. "You won't come, Face, not until I say so, you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Face answers with a gasp and a nod, and thrusts again.

"And you won't do that again."

"Boss..."

"I'm alive, Face, and I'm going to prove it to you. I'm going to take away those nightmares," Hannibal swears; if it's Hannibal's death that's keeping Face awake at night, Hannibal's going to make sure that even Face's subconscious catches on to how alive he is.

Face opens his mouth to speak again, but instead, he grunts as Hannibal shifts and wraps one large hand around Face's dick. His thumb grazes the head, his fingers tighten, and Hannibal begins a slow steady pull, letting to lick his palm before starting again. He jerks hard after a minute and speeds his rhythm, twisting his hand at the tip, teasing the slit with his thumb nail before sliding back down and turning his wrist, thumb now rubbing over Face's perineum.

Face growls, "Boss," and yanks at his wrists suddenly, parting his thighs further. He whines when he's held past, and begs, "I need more, Boss."

"I'm sure you do," Hannibal replies, "but you're not getting it yet."

He doesn't have handcuffs readily available, but he's got plenty of ties leftover from their last mission; slipping one through the slats of the headboard and tying it around Face's wrists takes only a few moments, then Hannibal is nipping at Face's chest, licking at his nipples until they're stiff, and lays kisses from there to Face's navel. It's far too gentle in Face's opinion, not what he'd been expecting of Hannibal, yet it's somehow just right given the contrast of Hannibal biting down on the skin above his dick, worrying it, reddening it – a perfect mark.

"Goddamnit, Boss." Face loops his fingers around the fabric of the tie and pulls his heels back, cants his hips. "Better than I imagined."

Hannibal lets out a chuckle. Oh, yes, his boy (and they're all his boys, but Face is his now) is quite eager, but Face won't get his orgasm – not until he figures out what Hannibal wants to teach him. So many lessons... So many things he's going to write into Face's bare skin, onto his mind.

He doesn't say anything to Face this time, instead choosing to push Face's legs back down and lick a stripe up Face's dick, sucking the head into his mouth. He's always liked the weight of a dick in his mouth, something only close friends knew (and teased him about – the great Hannibal Smith, loving to suck cock), and he hasn't in the last few years. Still, Face is moaning over him as Hannibal grazes his teeth over the shaft, fingers rubbing Face's ass.

He brings Face to the edge, then eases back, kneeling up between Face's legs, and wishes instantly that he had a camera: Face is relaxed, loose yet taut at the same time – his body is lax on the covers, but his fingers are tight around the tie – and he's panting. His balls are close to his body, dick red and hard and wet from Hannibal's spit.

"Boss?" Face mumbles, pupils so wide there's only a thin ring of blue around them.

"You with me, kid?"

"Always."

"Good," Hannibal whispers, "good," and reaches into the drawer of the bedside table. There's a half-used bottle of lube, something he'd procured himself but will (in the future) make Face get (which will no doubt be the best lube on the planet); Hannibal drips some onto his fingers until he's sure that there's enough on them that he'll be able to stretch Face, slick him open.

He starts with one finger where he'd normally start with two; Hannibal knows that Face has never kept his attention to strictly one sex, but he also knows that it's been a long time since Face has taken any man to bed, and while there's a time and a place for rougher sex, Hannibal wants this etched into Face's mind on multiple levels.

"You're mine, Face," Hannibal tells him, leaning up to capture Face's mouth with his own and when he breaks apart, Hannibal goes one, "I'm not dead, Face, and I'm not going anywhere. I'm here, I'm real, and from now on, whenever you have a nightmare, I'll be right here. I'll take it away."

Face whimpers, "Fuck them out of me?"

"Like I said – you're mine now." Hannibal pushes a second finger into Face. "If a nightmare wakes you, then I'll need a way to tire you out."

Hannibal adds another finger, scissoring them as he reaches for a pillow with his dry hand and pushes it under Face's hips. A little more lube in his hand, sliding it over his dick, then Hannibal is pressing against Face's hole.

"Come on, Boss," Face says, his arms jerking up in a failed attempt to grab Hannibal. He whacks his head against the mattress in frustration, trying to pull Hannibal in with his heels, and when he stops, Face whispers, "If I'm yours, then you're mine and I need you, Hannibal."

Hannibal smiles, heart mending in an instant (all those shattered pieces from earlier slotting into place), and he thrusts into Face in one long slide. He curses as Face's ass contacts Hannibal's hips, and forces himself to regulate his breathing, as Face's legs wind around Hannibal's back.

"This is where I should have had you all this time," Hannibal tells Face as he falls into a rhythm, "You could tempt saints and you have and I should never have allowed it. Because you belong right here."

Face groans. "Hannibal..."

"From now on, this is where you'll be when you have a nightmare or a mission fails... Under me, with my dick in you."

"Hell, yes," Face smiles as he says it, and cries out when Hannibal catches him at the right angle. It doesn't happen again, but it takes Face to the edge and he wants to go over, is so tempted to go over.

"Not yet," Hannibal tells him, moving faster. He undoes the tie on Face's hands and tells him, "You don't touch yourself."

Face nods. He'd had no intention of jerking himself off, though now it's all he can think of, and he sets his hands on Hannibal's ass, fingers clenching at his lover. He yanks at Hannibal, urging him even faster, deeper. Seriously, this sweet and gentle edge can go away now – all Face wants is Hannibal's sweat and his smell, the feel of him, as he's taken hard.

"Next time, I am going to put you on your hands and knees," Hannibal starts, his voice low and heady, "and I'm going to fuck you so hard, I might even smoke while I pound into this body."

It's embarrassing and loud and Face hates himself a little for it, but he moans at the thought.

"I want to watch as your ass stretches around my dick." Hannibal bends down, taking another kiss – Hannibal knows already that keeping from kissing Face in public is going to take most of his resolve. He looks forward to the cracks, to the little infractions he'll commit as time passes, and he hopes Face is as well.

Hannibal snakes a hand down, takes Face in hand again, and tells Face, "Come, Templeton," before stilling his hips. He watches as Face comes in spurts, his hands flexing and fingers digging into Hannibal's flesh, and when he finishes, Hannibal kisses him and thrusts a handful more times, coming with a shout.

They both pant through the sudden weakness, Hannibal letting himself fall on top of Face, and runs a hand through Face's hair. Kisses Face for the hundredth time.

"Go to sleep," Hannibal orders when the silence gets to be too much. "Let's see if I've chased away that nightmare."

"Almost wish I have it if this is what's going to happen," Face mutters, but he closes his eyes anyway.

Above him, Hannibal pulls his dick from Face's body and rolls to the side, refusing to let sleep take him as he keeps watch over Face.